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The problem being, per DiCrescenzo, that it represented “worse songs and less realism.” He compares the sound unfavorably to “Nebraska and Welcome to Asbury Park—or ‘the albums without Clarence Clemons.’ Those cheesy sax bleats….” Two problems here: it’s Greetings From Asbury Park. More importantly, it features Clarence Clemons. It has cheesy sax bleats.
So that leaves Nebraska. Here’s the funny thing about Nebraska, which is my favorite Springsteen album: it’s a sophisticated conceit. A concept album. He actually began recording with the full E Street effect and scrapped it for his self-recorded demos, which required significant studio work to clean up. Conceptually, it’s also the product of his Svengali, Jon Landau, a Brandeis grad who fed Springsteen a diet of classic American narratives.
This is madness, of course*. Strip Springsteen of the overwhelming urban sound, the popular showman’s kitsch, and you strip away a vital part of his cultural heritage, and ours. We’re children of the radio–okay, grandchildren of the radio. Our inheritance is popular music in all its plasticity and profundity; our authenticity is LAME encoded and infinitely replicable. Don’t let it pass you buy.
